


Serendipity

by bramblePatch



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Comfort, Cuddling, Feelings Jam, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Moirallegiance, Pale Romance, Self-Harm, piles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-18
Updated: 2011-10-18
Packaged: 2017-10-24 17:51:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/266236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bramblePatch/pseuds/bramblePatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What so many of the others don't understand is that Gamzee's as pale for Karkat as Karkat is for Gamzee. Fuck, he's pretty sure he was pale for Karkat before Karkat fell for him, because Karkat's always been a tightly-wound bundle of nerves and anger and fear, just barely held together with an iron self-control that's nothing if not a miracle.</p><p>Rating for Kar and Gamz's attatchment to certain words, and for themes of self-harm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Serendipity

What so many of the others don't understand - except maybe Equius, and there's a reason that he's the one of Gamzee's friends that's closest to being a best friend without actually straying anywhere near Best Friend territory - is that Gamzee's as pale for Karkat as Karkat is for Gamzee. Fuck, he's pretty sure he was pale for Karkat _before_ Karkat fell for him, because Karkat's always been a tightly-wound bundle of nerves and anger and fear, just barely held together with an iron self-control that's nothing if not a miracle. And even Gamzee didn't realize how much Gamzee needed someone to ground him until the sopor ran out and the voices came in and the blood started flowing.

Gamzee always _wanted_ to be able to hold Karkat and to hold Karkat together, and he's actually just a little disappointed in himself that the incident that led to Troll Serendipity grabbing both of them by the horns and shaking them until they both saw diamonds was one that put _Gamzee_ wildly out of control, left _Gamzee_ dazed and shooshpapped out of his wits and clinging to Karkat like a koala while the smaller troll tried to keep him calm and get everyone out of the veil at the same time.

So these days it's actually Gamzee who does most of the worrying - if Gamzee's state of mind can really be considered worrying through the electric green haze of sopor - who keeps an eye on his moirail and initiates the physical contact he knows Karkat won't ever ask for.

And it's Gamzee who notices when Karkat's eloquent long-windedness fails him, when the metaphors run out and the nubby-horned troll starts to talk in short, terse sentences in which every other word is "fuck," "ass," or "fuckass."

And that does worry him, because although at least like a third of the time he has no idea what the fuck his moirail is going on about, he loves to listen to the rhythm of Karkat's speech and the way the words string themselves together like beads. As long as Karkat is talking and ranting and yelling, Gamzee knows that Karkat's mind is sharp, and engaged with something other than the dark corners of his own thinkpan.

Gamzee has just enough control over the chucklevoodoos these days to be aware that the dark corners of Karkat's thinkpan hold much worse things than sopor damage.

So when Gamzee sees Karkat respond to John's request for help in organizing the First Annual Nic Cage Film Festival with a snarl that is very nearly wordless, he thinks that maybe things have gone too far. He wanders over, drapes an arm around Karkat's shoulders, lets the pad of his thumb trace lazy circles in the bristly hair just under Karkat's ear. Karkat begins almost to melt into the touch and then he catches himself, goes as ramrod straight as ever.

"Gamzee, what the fuck. The fuck do you want."

"Hey, best friend, can we be getting our motherfucking jam on?" Gamzee asks. "I was thinking we kind of need to, and we ain't done it much lately."

The human kid is smiling like a dope, like he has no idea what is going on - no reason why he should, really, although Gamzee's starting to think he'll need to figure it out if he doesn't change his tack in how he interacts with Vriska, and ain't that a miracle, that Troll Serendipity isn't just a troll thing anymore. "Hi, Gamzee!" he chirps. "Can it wait a little? I was kind of talking to Karkat!"

Gamzee leans in toward John, his arm still around Karkat's shoulders, and grins toothily at the human. "Sorry, bro, I really need to motherfucking talk to my motherfucking moirail," he says, letting his voice pick up that barely audible edge that does odd things to people's heads. It's harder to do with that bit of his thinkpan hedged in by sopor, but it's not like he's trying to put more shit in John's dreams or anything. John blanches - Gamzee wonders again, breifly, at how awesome it is that the humans all change color so much more easily and dramatically than trolls, even if it is just the one color they come in - and takes a little half-step backward.

Karkat groans and buries his face in his hand. "Fuck. Egbert, I better make sure this fuckass doesn't kill anyone again," he says by way of apology. "Come on, then, Gamzee. Let's find a pile. Something other than horns, if you can fucking stand it."

 

Minutes later, but not many, Karkat turns a critical eye on the pile of sofa cushions he's accumulated, then turns to Gamzee with a scowl. "Ok, you utterly pitiful fuckup, what's the problem?"

Gamzee beams. "You tell me, best friend," he says, flopping backward into the pile in a way that sends several of the smaller throw cushions flying.

Karkat's eyebrows do some kind of miraculous motherfucking dance, going up in surprise before dipping back down into a glare. "You mean there's nothing wrong? You dragged me away for a feelings jam when there is nothing the fuck bothering you?"

"Did I motherfucking say that?" Gamzee reaches up and catches Karkat by the wrist, pulls the smaller troll into the pile next to him and loops an arm around his waist. Karkat yelps, and Gamzee waits until he stops thrashing around so much to speak again. It takes a little while, but Gamzee's in no hurry.

Long as Karkat's here, he isn't, at least.

When finally Karkat sits still, Gamzee's a little surprised at how the other troll feels lying on his arm, all sharp angles and not enough weight, because honestly, Gamzee's used to thinking of _himself_ as the scrawny motherfucker. He levers himself up a little on his elbow, brows drawing together under the paint. "You been eating, bro?"

Karkat sits up very quickly, crossing his arms over his narrow chest. "Of fucking course I've been eating, idiot," he snaps. "What the fuck kind of question is that?"

Gamzee shrugs. "The motherfucking pale kind, I suppose."

His moirail blinks at that, and chews his lip until a fang catches and a spot of red blooms, and then gasps, "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," cupping both hands to his mouth as his eyes go wide in reflexive fright before apparently remembering that there is now literally no one in the universe who does not know his blood color and daubing awkwardly - pitifully - at his cut lip with the back of one wrist. Gamzee's always amazed to watch Karkat think, because he can almost see things happening behind his moirail's just-barely-starting-to-turn-red eyes and he's pretty sure that anyone trying to watch _him_ think wouldn't be able to follow anything.

"I'm fine, Gamzee," Karkat finally says, slouching, letting his crossed arms fall to jumble across his knees. "I'm fucking fine. I may even be, as you would say, motherfucking fine."

There's a bit of that fluidity of language that Gamzee adores so much back, but he doesn't let himself breath freely yet, because although Karkat might claim he's fine, there's not a lot that a motherfucker can do about it when his voice wants to make it very clear that he's not fine, and Karkat's voice is flat and nearly dead. With a sigh, Gamzee sits up as well, placing an arm around Karkat's shoulders and pulling him to his side, more gently this time. Karkat leans in in an oddly stiff manner, his shoulder poking Gamzee in the side, and Gamzee traces long fingers through Karkat's hair.

"I don't think you motherfucking are, best friend, and it just completely up and breaks my motherfucking diamond when you get all raggedy like this," he murmurs. "I mean, I'm always after you to just do what feels fucking right... I can't motherfucking believe it feels right to be in the crazy bit of think-pan-space you be occupying lately."

Karkat folds and refolds his hands in his lap. "The fuck do you know about my think-pan, Gamzee?" he asks. "You haven't been poking around, have you? You know I don't like you playing with the crazy murderclown powers without telling me."

Gamzee chuckles, shakes his head. "Nah, bro, I been good." Mostly. Nothing that Karkat needed to worry about right now. "Just, Egbro just asked for your help on something, and you motherfucking said five words to him, and three of those words were fuck. That ain't the leader I motherfucking look up to."

The smaller troll's shoulders shift in what might be a sigh and might be a laugh. "Like you're one to talk, Gamzee. You swear more than I do."

"It ain't about the swearing, bro, really, it's about..." and Gamzee trails off, not sure how to put it. His fingers wander though Karkat's hair until they find the base of a horn.

"About...?" Karkat prompts after a long moment. "Damnit, did you zone out on me, Gamzee?"

Gamzee's fingers have found something, a texture he's not sure how to process, and he draws his hand away from Karkat's head, blinking uncertainly at the crumbly bits of dried red on his fingers. Karkat goes stiff again, as he figures out what Gamzee's discovered, about the same time that Gamzee understands what he's feeling and seeing.

"Shit, bro, why the motherfuck is your hornbed all bloody?" he asks gently. "That ain't no miracle. You been notching the motherfucker?"

"What? Fuck, you _idiot_ , get off of me!" Karkat snaps, trying to pull away - and that isn't a no, so Gamzee has his moirail's head in both of his hands before Karkat can escape, carefully parting the hair around the injured horn to take a closer look. The hornbed - the region where grey skin meets orange keratin - is scored by scratches and gouges. Some are fresher than others; only a few are visibly bloody, although like all scalp wounds, they bleed like a bitch and therefore there's quite a bit of dried blood there, crusting in the roots of Karkat's hair.

"Oh, _motherfuck_ , Karkat," Gamzee breathes. "Fuck, I am so sorry, bro, I should have motherfucking gotten my notice on ages ago."

"Get your hands off of my fucking horns, you fucking clown," Karkat spits, still trying to pull away - although not hard, he could get out of Gamzee's grip if he wanted to, so Gamzee suspects that he's trying more for appearance sake than anything, which strikes Gamzee as a little silly considering that they're alone and in the middle of a feelings jam, but whatever Karkat wants to be doing, he supposes. The scarlet-blooded troll's words come fast, like he's trying to out-talk a panic attack; he sounds about two seconds away from hyperventilating. "It's _not_ your fault. You're a hell of a lot more addled that I thought possible if you remotely think this could be your fault. If I want to scratch the hell out of my horns that's my fucking business, it's a far fuck better than taking it out of someone else's hide -"

Karkat is cut off rather abruptly as Gamzee obligingly stops examining his head and pulls him into a hug instead. He seems smaller than ever, trembling, almost _humming_ , his fists balled in front of him. "Shoosh, motherfucker, shoosh," Gamzee scolds. "It _is_ my motherfucking business. Supposed to keep you from motherfucking hurting anyone or getting hurt, ain't I? Kinda seems like I've missed on both motherfucking counts."

"I'm _fine_ ," Karkat insists, his voice muffled slightly by the front of Gamzee's shirt. He doesn't sound fine. "It's just my horns. And _I'm_ supposed to be the one keeping _you_ out of trouble."

Gamzee considers for a long moment. "How much motherfucking trouble have I gotten in lately?" he asks finally. "Did I miss something? 'Cause I thought you'd been doing a pretty much miraculous job of keeping this motherfucker under control since we got to this motherfucking paradise planet."

"So I haven't totally failed at something," Karkat growls. "Whoop-de-fucking-do."

"And even if I do need you - and I _really motherfucking need you_ , bro - that doesn't make you magically not a troll your motherfucking self, right?" Gamzee prompts. "I mean, that'd be pretty much the suckiest miracle ever, if you being a kickass moirail turned you into not a motherfucking troll."

It's almost funny, Gamzee can _feel_ Karkat's brows knit together against his chest. "Of course I'm a troll, stupid."

"Good." Gamzee says with some decisiveness. "Because you're a pretty motherfucking awesome troll and I'm glad I'm your moirail, and if you being a motherfucking troll was something that stopped happening, I'd have to figure out how to be a moirail to a not-a-troll."

Karkat doesn't answer for a long moment, but he seems to be breathing more evenly now. One of his hands flexes and curls again, this time taking in a handful of Gamzee's shirt, right in the middle of his symbol. Gamzee just kind of lets them topple over into the pile, curling himself loosely around the smaller troll; Karkat is a warm, solid mass in front of him, warmest little motherfucker Gamzee has ever known. That always amazes him; it's a miracle, like Karkat is a troll-shaped hot-water-bottle. Gamzee likes warmth, likes the contrast with his sweeps of ocean winds and his own nearly luke-warm blood.

And Karkat never seems to mind that Gamzee's noticeably cooler to the touch than he is, which is it's own little miracle, because Gamzee honestly wouldn't blame him if he didn't want to cuddle up to a chilly, gangly troll like the Capricorn.

"Besides," he says, after he's not sure how long, "It ain't 'just' your horns, I motherfucking like your horns, palebro. Don't badmouth the nubby little miracles."

"Now you're just being ridiculous," Karkat grumbles, but Gamzee doesn't hear so much anger now, in the buzz of his moirail's voice against his ribcage.

"No way, motherfucker, they fit, see?" Gamzee replies, and hooks his chin over the top of Karkat's head. Karkat's horns are two rounded little bumps that nestle comfortably on either side of his neck. "Most trolls, I'd stab myself in the motherfucking neck trying to do that."

"My god, you are such a dork," Karkat says, and there's an edge of something that might be a laugh in his voice. "You'd better not be getting greasepaint in my hair, Gamzee."

He probably is, and they both know it, and now Gamzee's laughing, and Karkat squirms a little. "Gogdammit, that _tickles_."

"Sorry, best friend."

"...it's kind of nice, actually."

Gamzee grins. "So don't pick on your motherfucking horns anymore, bro, or you'll kill off all the feeling and shit, and you won't be able to feel it when I stick my voicebox between your horns and laugh."

There's a brief silence, and when Karkat speaks again, his voice is serious. "I'll try not to," he says. "I fucking swear I'll try."

And there's something in Karkat's voice that Gamzee recognizes now, a note of stubborn uncertainty, like this is something Karkat's not sure he can fight. It's the same feeling Gamzee gets, when Equius gets his convincing on and Gamzee kind of wants to live up to his expectations, but he's pretty sure he won't be able to. But Equius's expectations are always things like "don't swear so much" or "be meaner to the lowbloods," not like "don't scratch your horns until they bleed."

"Come talk to me whenever you motherfucking need to," Gamzee urges him. "It's what I'm motherfucking here for. I'm a good listener, ain't I?"

"Yeah. Yeah, you are. That might help. We do need to pile more often." Karkat sounds as if he's trying to figure something out. Maybe as if he's trying to figure _everything_ out.

"And I've got these goofy motherfucking long arms, if I need to I can hold onto your hands until you don't wanna put them near your horns anymore," he adds. "You know, when they ain't got nobody lying on them and keeping them all trapped and shit."

Karkat chuckles, wiggles a little so that Gamzee can move his arm so that it's not digging into Karkat's side so much. "That might help, too."

There's another long silence, and just as Gamzee's wondering if his moirail has fallen asleep - in which case he really should wake him, because Karkat still _hates_ to sleep outside of a recuperacoon - Karkat speaks up again.

"Gamzee?"

"Yeah, best friend?"

"Thanks."

**Author's Note:**

> For the kink meme - someone requested some Gamzee♦Karkat with Gamzee as the pacifying partner and Karkat as suicidal or self-injuring. And I am such a sucker for truly reciprocal palemances, and I needed to write some fluff.
> 
> I chose horn-scratching as Karkat's self-harm of choice partly because I like playing with troll anatomy, and partly because I get tired of the impression that a lot of people have that cutting is the only kind of self-harm that goes on or that matters, having some issues with skin-picking, myself. I'm not generally a fan of the headcanon that horns are necessarily erogenous zones for trolls, but I do like the idea that they're somewhat sensitive.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Copacetic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/706530) by [Azzandra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azzandra/pseuds/Azzandra)




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